Solo quiero llorar un ratico
El día jueves publiqué un cuento, que a propósito de la muerte de mi sobrino, habla de cómo se sienten no los que se quedan, vivos, llorando, extrañando, sino los que se van de este plano. Es un texto ficticio, fantástico, pero muchas de las preguntas y comentarios que hicieron en el post se basaron en la experiencia personal y real que cada uno ha tenido con la muerte.
Una de las cosas que nos preguntábamos es ¿cuánto debemos llorar a nuestros muertos? ¿Hay un tiempo prudencial para hacerlo? Muchos de nosotros hemos crecido con la creencia de que al llorar mucho a un difunto lo ponemos a “penar”. Esta creencia dice que con el llanto continuo, imparable e interminable, más que ayudar, lo que hace es enfermar a la persona viva y no permite que el fallecido comience el camino de transición que ha iniciado.
Una de las cosas que debemos tener clara es que el duelo es un proceso personal, que tiene varias etapas y hay que vivir cada una de ellas para poder superar de la “forma más positiva” o de la manera menos traumática, la muerte de un ser querido. En lo personal, he llorado mucho la muerte de mi sobrino. Antes, al mínimo recuerdo, mi garganta se cerraba, y no podía hablar sin que las lágrimas de rabia, dolor e impotencia estuvieran de por medio: estaba bloqueada completamente y en estado de negación. Pero ahora siento que sus recuerdos también me hacen reír y que el llanto ha disminuido, que puedo verlo en las fotos y hablarle a su imagen, que puedo ver sus videos sin ganas de morir yo también.
Por ejemplo, en estos días, a propósito de que olí en el aire la fragancia que utilizaba mi sobrino, comencé a llorar en un bus mientras que algunas personas volteaban a verme indiscretamente. No es que haya tenido una recaída y que comience de nuevo a llorar por todo como al principio, es que tal vez me acostumbraré a su falta, pero eso no quiere decir que la acepte y que no lo extrañe.
En la actualidad, el llanto es muy mal visto. Hemos aprendido a contenerlo. Nunca falta alguien que nos diga que dejemos de llorar, o peor aún, que digan las típicas frases, “los hombres no lloran o con las lágrimas no vas a solucionar nada”. Claro que sí solucionan y sirven. Sirven para exteriorizar el dolor, la rabia, la impotencia, pero también sirven para calmar, sanar, limpiar adentro. En cambio, el duelo negado, enferma. Todo lo malo que sentimos y no sacamos, se nos queda en el alma y de allí mil enfermedades. Así que si tienes y quieres llorar, llora todo lo que quieras que total el dolor es tuyo y tuyas son también las lágrimas.
HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA OPORTUNIDAD, AMIGOS
La imagen principal es de libre uso y editada en Canva, y el texto fue traducido con Deepl Translate. Las otras imágenes son de mi galería personal
[Versión en Inglés]
Hello, friends of HIVE. This week what I would always like to happen is that the readers' reading of my texts give me reasons to discuss and reflect.
On Thursday I published a story about the death of my nephew, which talks about how not those who stay, alive, crying, missing, but those who leave this plane, feel. It is a fictional, fantastic text, but many of the questions and comments made in the post were based on the personal and real experience that each one of us has had with death.
One of the things we wondered is how much should we mourn our dead? Is there a reasonable time to do so? Many of us have grown up with the belief that by mourning a deceased person too much we put them to “grief”. This belief says that with continuous, unstoppable and endless crying, rather than helping, what it does is to make the living person sick and does not allow the deceased to begin the path of transition that has begun.
Well, personally, and it was part of my answer in that post, is that everyone cries as long as he/she wants and needs. I know many people who instantly do not mourn the death of a loved one and only with time, over the months, as if the floodgate of a dam opened, they begin to mourn inconsolably and unstoppably. Likewise, I have also seen how crying, in some people, “diminishes” with time, giving way to other feelings.
One of the things we must be clear about is that grief is a personal process, which has several stages and we must live each one of them in order to overcome the death of a loved one in the “most positive way” or in the least traumatic way. Personally, I have mourned the death of my nephew a lot. Before, at the slightest memory, my throat would close up, and I could not speak without tears of rage, pain and helplessness being in the way: I was completely blocked and in a state of denial. But now I feel that his memories also make me laugh and that the crying has diminished, that I can see him in pictures and speak to his image, that I can watch his videos without wanting to die too.
For example, these days, because I smelled the fragrance my nephew used to use in the air, I started to cry in a bus while some people turned to look at me indiscreetly. It is not that I have had a relapse and I start crying again for everything as I did at the beginning, it is that maybe I will get used to his absence, but that does not mean that I accept it and that I do not miss him.
I have read that, according to, in ancient Rome there was a funeral ceremony in which they would put the tears of the mourners in a bottle and bury the bottle with the dead person. This was a way to bury the pain of the loss and to hide the sadness caused by the death.
Nowadays, crying is frowned upon. We have learned to contain it. There is always someone to tell us to stop crying, or worse, to say the typical phrases, “men don't cry or tears won't solve anything”. Of course they do solve and serve. They serve to externalize the pain, the rage, the impotence, but they also serve to calm, to heal, to clean inside. On the other hand, the denied mourning makes us sick. All the bad things we feel and do not get out, stay in our soul and from there a thousand diseases. So if you have and want to cry, cry as much as you want, because the pain is yours and the tears are also yours.
it has also stolen the aspirations of a country.